Loving Magic
by takefourmoments
Summary: Magic. It's been the cause of Harry's probelms for so long, that he now choses to live without it. Five years later, Ginny is a writier at the Daily Prophet, is assigned to do an article on him. Can she help him love magic again?


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. JK does.

**Loving Magic**  
_Chief of Constables_

It was one of those days when the weather was cold enough to freeze your bare skin, nip at your nose, and have you wearing layers upon layers of clothes. Where most people opt to stay inside for the day, rather than do things that need to be done. The snow layered five inches from the ground, and was still falling. Businesses and schools were closing by the number, even at the early hour in the day. And the ones that didn't, people were calling in for various reasons; staying home to watch their children, snowed in and _conveniently_ can't find their only shovel. And then there are some people, people like Harry Potter, who just don't have the choice.

He was up before his alarm clock, the brightness from the snow and the early sun waking him. He got ready just as he did everyday: showering, dressing, eating and then sitting down for a few minutes of television before he had to step out to work. As always, he was dressed from head to toe in navy blue, accessorized with a black tie and a star shaped badge. The badge was sewn into the left pocket of his shirt, and reflecting the glare of the television picture. Glancing down at it, he grinned, and then looked back at the screen.

Harry Potter lived a good life. It was easy, calm, and completely peaceful; the kind of life he had always wanted. As he always wished, he was spending his days and nights saving others and keeping the town he lived in as peaceful as he could. And he loved it.

As a teenager, everyone had always told him that he had a hero-complex, and, as much as he used to hate to admit it, they had been right. He had a passion for saving people. Harry believed it came from the fact that so many people had died on his behalf; his parents, Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore—all been fighting to save him, or fighting with him, and he had seen everyone of them die. And he had not been able to do anything to help them.

Now, in a way, he was making up for that—for not being able to help them—and it was worth every minute.

Propping his feet up on the footstool in front of him, he took a small sip of his coffee and changed the channel. He was the town's favorite Constable, admired by the entire population—even the ones he brought in for their crimes. The town he lived in, Owensburg, was larger than most small towns, and had a slightly higher crime rate. A crime rate that had gone down each year he had been living there. But the crimes and violence were still small things. Corner store robberies, drugs, vandalism—but even the little things needed someone there to stop them.

Turning the channel once more, another small smile grew on his face, only this one held a hint of sadness. The show was titled Bewitched, and was all about a witch and her life living with a _mortal_, as the muggles were called in the show. He watched for a few seconds, then turned the television off, and made his way back into the kitchen. Opening a drawer under the sink, he moved a few things around, and then folded his fingers around a piece of wood. What he pulled out was his old wand; still looking like it had the day he had gotten it. He closed his fist around it tighter, the emotions he was feeling clear in his green eyes.

Harry had given up life as a wizard the week after he had taken Voldemort's life for the final time. The battle that he had fought had been difficult, but that had been expected. But he had not had help, as _everyone else_ had expected. Hermione and Ron had come along with him to find the Horcruxes, but once they had destroyed them all, Harry had simply asked them to go back, telling them that he needed to do it alone. Once and for all.

And so they had left. Two days later, Harry had defeated the Dark Lord.

Raising his hand, he lightly ran his fingers over his scar. The powers that had been held within the scar were gone, vanishing with Voldemort. Harry had felt it inside of him the moment the pain had lifted and left him completely; he'd felt whole for the first time in his life. The moment the relief and solitude left his body he had fainted from the pain of the injuries he received from the battle.

They healed most of the wounds at St. Mungo's, but kept him for a few days after he was better just to make sure that he was going to be fine. He had had many visitors—the Weasley's had all come, Neville, Remus and Tonks, and Fleur had stopped by with Bill. As for Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, they barely ever left his bedside. It had been the first time in his life that he could talk to his friends worry free. For once, everyone he loved was safe from Voldemort, and for good. The feeling that he had gotten from that very thought had been overwhelming.

It was that feeling of complete happiness that made Harry realize that the first person he had saved had been himself.

Hermione and Ron left each night, pulling a reluctant Ginny behind them, and came back each morning. But it was the nights that he got most of his thinking done. It was during those nights that he decided to become what he was now.

Ever since he was a child, he had wanted nothing but a normal life; a normal family. He had watched the kids at his muggle school, happy and lively, talking about their parents and their families, never having a care in the world. Compared to his childhood, that might as well have been Heaven. It was the thoughts of his room under the steps, of Dudley beating on him, and of the only parents he really every knew not wanting him around that _really_ made the decision for him.

For all the punishments and hatred he had received, all the troubles in his life had revolved around the fact that he was a wizard; the fact that he could do _magic_. They had revolved around the fact that Harry was _The Boy Who Lived_; destined to fight one of the greatest wizards of all time. And since he had done what he was meant to do—since he had beaten Voldemort and saved the world from many more years of pain and suffering—Harry finally just wanted to be normal.

Magic had caused him to be special, and to be normal it meant no more magic. So, Harry Potter, the boy who lived and the defeater of the Dark Lord, became a muggle.

Placing his wand back into the drawer, he shut it and let out a sigh. Now, he was Harry Potter, Owensburg's best Chief of Constables and the only person anyone around here knew who owned an owl. Hedwig was one of the only magical things he still used, as she was his one way to keep in touch with everyone.

Glancing down at the watch on his wrist, Harry let out a small curse. He was only a few minutes late, as he had spent a little too much time reflecting over the past. It was something he tried not to do too often, because, despite the fact that he loved his life, he missed magic, and he missed everyone. Remus was over a lot, and the two of them had grown closer than Harry had expected; in fact, Remus had become the father figure Harry had always wanted. Ron and Hermione visited often, bringing their two kids to see their 'Uncle Harry'. But other than that, he rarely saw anyone else.

It was more often than not that he had to stop himself from thinking about them, to stop himself from thinking about her.

Shaking his head, Harry slid his arms through his coat, zipping it up to his neck. As he stepped out into the cold, the icy air slid under the thin layer of his jacket, making him shiver. He quickly locked his door, despite the fact that no one ever did in this town. A part of him always worried about diminutive things like that. Rubbing his hands together to warm them, he quickly plowed through the snow, reminding himself to shovel it away when he got off duty.

Once in his car (which was a very nice one; Harry was sure Uncle Vernon would be wildly jealous), he brushed the snow from his messy hair and pushed his glasses up his nose, then brought the car to life. The usual drive to work took ten to fifteen minutes, depending on traffic. Today, with all the snow and not enough snowplow trucks, it was going to take a lot longer. For Harry could not get his pretty little car to drive through the stuff.

"Well, shit," he muttered under his breath, sighing heavily. Pushing himself from the car, he kicked snow out of way, locked his car and then ran back across the street, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket as he did.

Miller, his deputy, barked into the phone after three rings, obviously not having the best morning, either.

"Mill, it's Harry. I'm running a bit late, and there's no way in hell my car is going to make it through the snow." Back in the house, Harry shoved his arms into another coat, this one much thicker. If he was going to walk, he was going to be as warm as possible. "I'm making my way out the door on foot now. Just wanted to call and—"

"Damn, Potter," Miller snapped. "I honestly expected to you call and tell me you were pulling in right now. You know how hectic the town people can get when it snows—hell, they go nuts when it rains! And where is the great Chief of Constables? Walking out his door, that's where!" Miller's sarcasm told Harry wonders about the unhappiness he was feeling. Harry, despite his friends bitter tone, grinned.

"See you in a few, Mill," he returned good naturedly.

"Doubt it," Miller grunted, and Harry shut his phone, cutting the connection. He had been working with Thomas Miller since the day he had signed up to work at the Scotland Yard. He had started out under the guy, but quickly moved up the line to being above him. There were no hard feelings, simply because the two of them were close friends.

As Harry trudged down the street, through the snow, his thoughts drifted back to his magic. It was times like this that he really missed it. It would be so simple just to apparate to the station, saving him a lot of time and a lot of frozen fingers. Too bad he swore off using it, especially in a town like this, when not using magic seemed to make life simpler. At least, it did when it was not below zero degrees.

Hugging his arms to his body, Harry shivered lightly, his walk getting a little faster. Walking to the station took only twice as long on foot as it did in a car, because of the many shortcuts he could take to get there. As he turned to cut through Mrs. Maloney's (an old lady who reminded him quite a bit of Mrs. Figg; with all the animals she kept) yard, he took notice of how many cars were still parked in their driveways. It was to be expected, though, on a day like this. No one was crazy enough to come out of his or her house unless it was completely important. Instead, they all stayed home and called the station, asking about things that Harry and Miller had no idea how to answer.

As he made his way out of the yard and back onto the main street, a horn blew behind him and he turned, surprised to see a vehicle heading towards him. But, then again, he realized that he should not have been. As the large truck pulled to a stop beside him, Harry pulled the door open and grinned at the driver.

"Hop in, Potter," greeted the small girl in the drivers seat, her smile teasing.

"I don't get in cars with strangers." He shrugged his shoulders in apology.

"This is your lucky day, since I'm driving a truck," she joked, reaching over and patting the seat. Harry's grin grew as he lifted himself into the cab, slamming the door shut. "So, tell me why my brother called me in a frantic tone saying that I needed to go get you quickly. Honestly, Tommy sounded like the world was ending."

"You know how Mill gets when I'm a little bit late for work." Harry let out a small laugh. It was just like Miller to call his sister after finding out that Harry was walking to work. That guy had absolutely no patience. Not that Harry could really complain this time. He had not wanted to walk and was very grateful that Rachel showed up.

"Brainless?" Rachel answered as she started driving again. Harry was amazed by how easily the truck drove over the snow.

"I have to get me one of these," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head at his own pitiful car.

She was obviously amused. "What? That puny little thing you own wouldn't go anywhere? But I thought it was the best car you'd ever owned," her voice faded into a singsong mock. The little banter about their cars was a constant thing with them, for she had always hated his fancy little car, and he had always been completely amazed by it.

"It is the best car I've ever owned," he retorted honestly, since it was the _only_ car he had ever owned. "It just doesn't do well with snow, that's all," he defended weakly, knowing that her monster truck could run over his cute little Volvo in seconds.

"Got a little fear of the coldness?" she asked in a baby voice, grinning at him as she stopped at a stop sign and revved the truck's engine, as if to intimidate Harry, who just grinned and shrugged.

"It would seem that way," he joked back, winking at her. Rachel let out a small laugh and shook her head. The two of them had always gotten along; sometimes better than he and Miller had when he first made it into town. He and Rachel had just clicked right off, and were friends before he'd gotten Mill's name out of him. And most of the time, Harry was perfectly content being around Rachel. They talked, they joked... but then there were times when she got that look in her eyes, the look that asked for more than just the basic friendship. And Harry could never give it to her.

For he'd never been able to get a certain redhead out of his head and away from his heart.

He hated missing her the way he did. Everyday, he itched to have her in his arms; ached to see her face again... He wanted for her to, just once, walk through that door with her brother. But she never came. She never showed up. He couldn't blame her, though; he never wrote a letter to her and asked her to. He was still afraid that she would bring up too much of the magic in him, that she would make him want to become the boy he once was. And as much as he still loved her, he couldn't go back to that just yet.

He just wasn't sure how much longer he was going to be able to stay away from her, from the magic, and from everyone he used to know. And he could almost feel that it was coming; that it was almost time for him to go home, to go back to the way things were before, even if it was just to visit and make a few ends meet. Even if nothing came of it. He wasn't running from his past, he was just walking away slowly, afraid to go back to those feelings of not being normal again. But he'd have to turn back to it sooner or later.

And it seemed it would be sooner.

"You're thinking about her again aren't you?" Rachel's voice broke into his thoughts, and Harry hated to hear the sadness that was evident in her tone. Harry realized that they were stopped and that they'd arrived at the station, and he slowly began unbuckling his seat belt. "I can always tell when you think about her, because you get this look on your face. And I'll never understand how you can look so sad and at the same time look happier then ever."

Harry smiled lightly, letting out a laugh. "Yeah, I was thinking about her, but no need to feel bad for me, Rach. I'm happy here; I just miss everyone there. But, I've got you and Miller now, and I have the town. I have a family now. What more do I need?" he asked in a joking tone as he opened the door and slid out. "Better get in there before your brother gives himself a heart attack." He passed her another teasing wink as he shut the door and headed up the snowy pathway.

From inside of the truck, Rachel stared after him, sighing heavily. She'd been in love with Harry Potter from the moment she'd set her eyes on him, and known the very next that he was completely crazy over a mysterious girl, who never came around, but held Harry's thoughts like no one else would ever be able to. Not even her, no matter how hard she was trying to be the kind of girl he would want. She watched him disappear into the building and started her truck back up, revving it once more just because she knew he could hear it.

"Harry," she whispered into the cold air of the cab. "This small town will never be enough for you."

**-Chapter End-**

_Nest chapter, will be our darling Ginny. This is mostly just to introduce Harry's new life. Thanks for reading._


End file.
